|
Article: Hi, My Name Is....
Writer: Jamie Traumaboy
Date Posted: 19/07/01
Well hello there. How you doin'? Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jamie. I'm 24, male, single, 11 stone, 5ft 10”, brown hair, blue eyes. Born in Dublin, raised in Waterford (big shout out right about now to the South East Hard Core Massive. all 3 of us), current residence unknown. I'm great, me. Really. I'm fucking brilliant. Not only am I punker than all of you will ever be, but I'm also far funnier, more intelligent, and better looking than 99.9 % of you. I can out drink, out smoke, and out fight all of you in my sleep. I have better taste than all of you in everything too. And yes ladies, not only am I hung like a particularly well built donkey, I'm the best lay in the world too.
Right, hopefully that last paragraph got rid of the political correctness brigade and people who don't understand sarcasm (which I guess means I've also inadvertently got rid of any Americans reading this too.. go me!), so without further ado, I present my first column for “Ready Steady Jedi”. Well, I guess it's more an introduction, a taster if you will, for the kind of inane crap I'm going to be sending Brine for you all to read. Let me level with you kids, I don't plan on writing columns addressing the urgent in-scene issues of the day. Oh no. I've done enough of that in the past, and hell is it ever boring. Nah, I've got other, more facetious fish to fry.
Well, okay, that's after I've written this initial lil' rant.
See, historically, zines have a series of columns that centre around what are basically the same themes over and over again; the main two of course being
“What's wrong with Punk”
“What Punk means to me”
Let's look at these two oft-reported subjects children. In fact, hang on, I'm going to do an about turn to what I said earlier, and attempt (don't try this at home kids) to combine them both into one gigantic SUPER-COLUMN! It will be the PUNKEST COLUMN IN THE WORLD EVER! Stand back y'all, I'm gonna drop some major punk rock literary science on your asses! Here goes..
NEWSFLASH! This just in! Every 35 minutes on a typewriter or computer (or if you're really punk, on a scrap of paper with a shitty biro, Cometbus style) somewhere in the world, someone sits down to write a “What punk/hardcore/DIY means to me” type column. We've all done it. C'mon folks, admit it, it's okay, don't be afraid. Hey, in my younger years, I even did one myself (though admittedly I was young and I needed the money, so it was either that or sell my liver). Hell, there are certain zinesters I know who write about it every time they write anything. They've based their whole scenester career on letting us all know what hardcore means to them. And guess what? I DON'T CARE! Honestly.. Oh, it feels so good to say it.. Here I go again.. I DON'T GIVE A MONKEY'S! Do you care what punk/hc means to me? You do? WHY? What's it got to do with you? Face it kids.. At the end of the day, what difference does it make? I mean, do you think postmen stop each other in the street to discuss how being a postman has changed their life? Do you think a barman would be interested, or would relate to you better, if on approaching them for a pint you handed them a 300 word written article about why you drink Bulmers instead of Hudson Blue? I doubt it.
“What's wrong with punk today”? Err.. I'm guessing the fact that people are too busy trying to write articles about what's wrong with punk to actually, you know, get up off their arses and fix what they're complaining about. If they're not busy writing the “what punk means to me” manifesto. Kids, seriously. Use your imaginations. It won't hurt.
See ya later. Hardcore for the hardcore. Play fast or die. Jamie
NEXT TIME: read for yourselves about one of my crazy adventures featuring dunken madness, sinister twists, and sexy results.
ENDNOTES:
I expect a number of you may be anal enough to take offence to this and want a word with me. Bring it on fukkers: thattraumaboykid@hotmail.com Or hey, why not say it to my face. I won't hear you through the laughter probably, but it's worth a try.
When in England, go see the following for some fine, fine hardcore: ARMY OF FLYING ROBOTS, REX 84, PARADE OF ENEMIES, EBOLA, THE DEVILS, and VOORHEES. And buy your records from Enslaved. Nick, Cathy and Josie are lovely.
I missed Roscommon and Limerick fests - Roscommon I will miss because of a combination of skintness/not being arsed/having to go to a wedding reception (though good luck to Corm.. and SIR KILLALOT!). Limerick I missed because I didn't know it was on. Warzone I'm not missing. So there.
KIDS WITH MY PHONE NUMBER TAKE NOTE: Only call me if you have something very necessary to say. I ain't so hot on phone conversations for no apparent reason other than boredom.
|
